Chapter 2 - Crossing the Line
Before Audrey could form a lie to protect the syndicate, a shadow fell across the hospital bay.
Adrian Cross stepped past the privacy curtain.
The temperature in the small cubicle dropped ten degrees. The two police officers instantly straightened, their hands hovering near their duty belts as they took in Adrian’s towering frame, the dark wool overcoat, and the absolute aura of lethal authority radiating from him.
“Step back,” Adrian said. It wasn't a request; it was a physical law of nature.
“Hold on, pal,” the older officer said, flashing his badge half-heartedly. “We're conducting an active investigation here. Who the hell are you?”
Adrian did not look at the cop. His dark, unblinking eyes were fixed entirely on Audrey, who flinched at the sound of his voice, her bruised face turning toward him with a look of profound, quiet shame.
“I am her employer,” Adrian said smoothly, his voice a low, gravelly hum that seemed to vibrate in the linoleum floors. “And your interview is concluded.”
“The hell it is,” the younger officer bristled, stepping forward. “She was just assaulted on the expressway. We need to know who her employer is, what kind of business she runs, and who would send thugs to—ow!”
Adrian moved with blinding, terrifying speed. In a fraction of a second, he closed the distance, his hand gripping the young officer’s wrist with a pressure so immense the man gasped, dropping his notepad as his knees buckled. Adrian leaned in close, his voice dropping into a register reserved for men he was about to bury in a shallow grave.
“You will walk out of this hospital, you will lose my accountant's file, and you will forget you ever answered this call,” Adrian whispered, his eyes locking onto the terrified cop. “Or tomorrow morning, you will find out what happens when city cops step onto turf they don't own. Do I make myself clear, officer?”
“Y-Yes,” the cop choked out, his face turning pale.
Adrian released his grip, shoving the officer back a step. He turned to the older cop, who wisely grabbed his partner’s arm and backed out of the bay without uttering another word. They scrambled past the curtain and practically sprinted down the hallway, eager to escape the apex predator they had accidentally cornered.
The young resident stitching Audrey’s temple dropped his needle onto the metal tray, shaking so badly he backed against the wall. “I—I'm finished here. The stitches are set. Just... keep her quiet.”
“Get out,” Adrian said softly.
The resident fled.
Silence rushed back into the sterile cubicle. Adrian finally moved, stepping up to the side of the gurney. He looked down at Audrey’s torn blouse, the drying blood, the swollen cheek, and the raw laceration on her temple. A vein throbbed violently at his temple, the only external sign of the volcanic fury raging beneath his calm exterior.
“You called the police,” Adrian noted quietly, his voice devoid of anger toward her, carrying only an infinite, crushing weight.
“I had to,” Audrey whispered, her voice cracking as she stared at her lap. “They... they took my briefcase, Mr. Cross. The physical ledger for the South Side properties was inside it. The encrypted drive with the offshore routing codes.”
Adrian reached out. His large, calloused hand gently cupped the uninjured side of her face, lifting her chin so she had to look at him. His touch was surprisingly tender, entirely at odds with the violent reputation that preceded him across the city.
“Let them have the briefcase,” Adrian said, his voice dropping into a soothing, hypnotic register. “Let them read the ledgers. Let them try to decode the drives. That is paper, Audrey. Ink and silicon.”
He slid his thumb softly across her cheekbone, avoiding the purple bruising. “You are flesh and bone. They touched you.”
A solitary tear escaped Audrey’s eye, cutting a clean path through the dirt and dried blood on her cheek. “I'm sorry. I tried to fight them off. I tried to protect the work.”
“You protect the books,” Adrian corrected fiercely, his eyes flashing with a dark, terrifying promise. “I protect you. That is the arrangement.”
He stepped back, pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and dialed a single digit on the speed dial. It connected on the first ring.
“Marcus,” Adrian said.
“Boss? I thought you were reviewing ledgers,” Marcus’s gruff voice answered from the secure line.
“Gather the cleanup crew. Full mobilization. Every capo, every enforcer, every asset we have on the streets.”
On the other end of the line, Marcus went completely still. He knew the tone. It was the tone Adrian used when a blood debt had been incurred. “Who do we hit, Boss? The Russians? The Outfit?”
“We hit everyone,” Adrian replied coldly, staring down at the blood on Audrey’s blouse. “Find out who operates a black SUV on the Dan Ryan Expressway. Find out who stopped my secretary tonight. And Marcus?”
“Name it, Boss.”
“I don't want prisoners. I want names, I want the briefcase back, and then I want them in the ground.”
Adrian hung up the phone before Marcus could reply. He turned back to Audrey, sliding his strong arm beneath her uninjured shoulders and lifting her effortlessly off the gurney.
“Mr. Cross, what are you doing? I can walk—”
May you like
“Quiet, Audrey,” he murmured, carrying her out of the hospital bay and past the terrified nurses at the front desk. “We're going home.”
For the first time in five years, Audrey Miller rested her head against the chest of a man the city feared like the plague, and for the first time all night, she finally felt safe.
